


The Investigators

by LNelson



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Kidnapping, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LNelson/pseuds/LNelson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please see notes at end (after reading).</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Investigators

**Author's Note:**

> Please see notes at end (after reading).

It would have been almost noon when he awoke to the clanging of pots and pans downstairs. "Clumsy D'Artangan", he thought. Checking the clock beside his bed, Aramis decided to get mobile. Stumbling out of his bedroom and down the stairs, he saw the kitchen and living room in a state of tidiness that suggested a cyclone had recently blown through. There were cushions lying on the floor, encircled by the feathers they had previously contained. The excessive paperwork that comes with running a private-eye organisation had been swept off the table and lay covering the carpet in nearly the whole room. The pots and pans that had caused Aramis to wake were scattered about the room. The only thing in its place was a full English Breakfast sitting on a plate. D'Artangan was not there, which was slightly unusual, as D'Artangan was not one to leave a plate of food unattended, and certainly knew better than to do so when sharing a house with three other men, including Porthos. "D'art?" Aramis called out, just a tinge concerned.  
There was no response.  
"D'Artangan, where are you?" He shouted louder.  
"Will you shut up? I was just getting back to sleep again!" It was a gruff voice from upstairs. Porthos was up.

Aramis began to wander around their home-office looking for his missing friend. Everything seemed in order until he entered the bedroom that they were using as an archive room. The drawer labelled "June-July 2012" was open, it's contents in a pile on the floor. Aramis crouched down to investigate the open files and noticed that the window, previously obscured by filing cabinets, had been smashed cleanly. The entire pane was gone, reduced to countless tiny shards sitting on both sides of the ground level window. There was some blood, not much, leaving stained red drops on the inside pile. The Musketeers Investigative Services has been broken into, and the burglar had possibly taken their prodigy detective.

Returning to the kitchen to call the police, Aramis found Porthos sitting at the bench, rapidly consuming the breakfast prepared and abandoned by their missing friend.  
"D'Artangan is missing and someone has broken into the archive room. I'm not sure if they have taken anything yet," Aramis reported.  
"Call the police," Porthos instructed.  
"Thanks for the tip," Aramis remarked sarcastically, picking up the phone and dialling the emergency services number.

"Hello....Police please....Yes. Well, our house has been broken into and one of our friends is missing. We think he has been kidnapped....Our address? Musketeers Investigative Services, 65 Avenue du Nord....Thank you....Right away? Good. Thank you."

Less than a quarter of an hour later two officers had arrived, Constable Gasper and Detective DeWinter, assuming that their name-tags were correct. The two police officers were virtually opposites. Gasper was a short, stout man, probably in his early fifties, already balding, wearing a crooked toupet to match his crooked wired coke-bottle glass spectacles. DeWinter, on the other hand, was beautiful. A woman about Aramis's age, perhaps just a couple of years older, she fitted the uniform perfectly exuded incomparable grace and confidence.

Gasper spoke first. "Good afternoon, Monsieur....?"  
"René d'Herblay,” Aramis responded, deciding to keep his alias to himself.  
"Monsieur d’Herblay." The Constable finished by touching the peak of his cap.  
"I am Constable Alexandre Gasper and this is Detective Milady DeWinter. We are a specialist homicide/missing persons unit, and we will be handling your reported disappearance, as well as the associated burglary. Before we begin, I would like to let you know that, as you are private investigators and probably have some idea about our processes and such, we would appreciate any assistance and information more so than in a regular case."  
"Oh...okay. Please come in."  
"Thank you."

Aramis led the two officers to the kitchen where Porthos was finishing washing the dishes from the breakfast he had shared with D'Artangan.  
"There's quite a mess in here. There must have been some struggle. Anyway, would you two mind sitting down so we could ask you some questions?" Asked Gasper.

The two musketeers glanced at each other before sitting down.  
"Now," DeWinter was speaking for the first time. She had a beautiful voice that simultaneously enchants one, distracting them in her effortless charm, while compelling them to listen carefully. "Can I get your personal details?"

"Of course." Porthos began. "I am Porthos du Vallon. I am 28 years old. I have been working as a private investigator for the last five years."

"And I am René. I am 27 and have also been a PI for five years."

"Thank you. What can you tell me about the missing person? How do you know him?"

"His name is Charles Ogier de Batz de Castelmore D’Artangan. His family were aristocrats who wouldn’t let go of their pretentious long names."  
"And he is the most gifted PI here. Been working with us for two years." Porthos added.  
"He lives here - we all do. He is a distant cousin of our boss, and he needed a job. As it turns out, he's a natural."

"You said you all live here. How many of you are there?" 

"Four. The two of us, D'Artangan and Athos," Aramis answered, accidentally letting slip his friend’s nickname.

"Can you tell me about Athos?"

"Yeah," replied Porthos, "He went to high school with the two of us, and started this business five years ago. His full name is Olivier de la Fère."

"I see. When did you last see him?"

"Early this morning, at five," Porthos explained, "He took over surveillance from me."

"Thank you. Well, that is all I have to ask at the moment. Do you mind if I have a look around while the Constable goes through some paperwork with you?"

"Go ahead." Aramis blurted, perhaps a little too quickly. He was oddly anxious to escape this woman's bewitching aura; "would either of you like a cup of tea or coffee?"

"I'm right."  
"No thanks."

So the Constable took the two men through the considerable amount of paperwork to be completed, and the detective began inspecting the crime scene. She took photos of the mess on the floor, as well as taking samples of the blood left on the broken glass. She flicked through the files that had been thrown out of the cabinet, and, after checking over her shoulder, slipped one into her briefcase. With their initial investigation complete, the two police officers departed.

"Oh no!" Exclaimed Aramis, "D'Artangan was supposed to take over from Athos at half past twelve, and we haven't even called to tell him what has happened. You call him and I'll take over his shift. He was supposed to wrap up the case too, so at least our schedules have not been thrown off too much."

"Calm down man! I will call him right now and you can get into surveillance gear and then get over there. Then I'll tidy the place up and get to work on the paperwork."

After expressions of gratitude and apologies for the panic, Aramis dressed for work and set off. It was not until he was driving along a long, straight road that it hit him: D'Artangan had been kidnapped. D'Artangan, their youngest brother. The one who always tried to be so grown up even though he was only 19. He was gone, taken, and his captor was almost certainly someone who was not afraid of doing bad things. Aramis knew that his closest best friend, Porthos, would feel exactly the same way when the gravity of the situation hit him. As for Athos, well, no one ever knew how Athos would react. But he would not be happy. Athos, the patriarch of the group, losing the youngest and most vulnerable cub. Aramis was afraid to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic, in fact, my first ever writing anything fictional outside of school requirements. Please give me feedback. I like strong criticism. Chapter two should be up soon if it is wanted.


End file.
